


Fumbling Towards (Flowers and Forever)

by clarityhiding



Series: The Storybook Hour [3]
Category: Bandom, Doctor Who, Panic! at the Disco, The Cab, Young Veins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-17
Updated: 2009-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/pseuds/clarityhiding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon grows from teenager to adult. On the way he plays music, encounters aliens, loses his family, finds a new one, and kisses boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fumbling Towards (Flowers and Forever)

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Still making up stuff, still fiction—the only things that are real are the names, and I changed some of those. _Doctor Who_ , _Torchwood_ , Weevils, and the like are the property of the BBC.
> 
> A sidestory to The Storybook Hour. I don't think you have to read all of that to get this? (Quickly: In TSH, Ryan is adopted by the Smiths at a young age; Black Belinda is the hearse he and Spencer co-own and that serves as Panic!'s main ride.) This is, however, very much a _side_ story, so it probably makes more sense if you read The Storybook Hour. Absolutely no knowledge of _Doctor Who_ or _Torchwood_ is needed, however.
> 
> For belle_bing who asked to hear about Brendon/Cash, only encouraged me more when this refused to be a quick, 2,000 word story, and beta'd it all when I finished. ♥ you, B.

In later years, Brendon looks back and is pretty sure that he fell in love with the Smith brothers within twenty minutes of meeting them. Of course, when he looks back, he knows a large part of his instant infatuation came from the fact that it was the first time he met someone when the background noise that had been near-constant in his head was quiet enough for him to hear the music in their thoughts. At sixteen he's completely unaware of his psychic abilities, oblivious to the psychic-dampening effects of the machines in the Smiths' garage. To Brendon, nervously eager to please, wanting nothing more than to gain the approval of Brent's friends, the Smith brothers are magic.

Ryan is the one he bonds with first, because the music is stronger with Ryan. Stronger and clearer and they end up hunched over Brendon's keyboard, talking about tempo and key changes, majors and minors. Within minutes they're anticipating one another's words, finishing each other's sentences, and Brendon can feel a strange sort of joy bubbling up inside him, filling his chest and spilling out his mouth in excited babbling and run-on sentences. Of the two Smith brothers, Ryan is indubitably the one Brendon falls for first, in one giant leap, without looking back, with nary a thought about the possible consequences.

It isn't until later, when Brendon takes the time to surface from the potent, heady rush of _Ryan_ that he really notices the other boy. The one behind the drum kit, who's been keeping up with them all this while, working out beats and building steady rhythms to shore up and support the intricate melodies Brendon and Ryan have been weaving. With Ryan, Brendon falls in love in a single leap. Brendon's looking for something to cling to, something to help him stand up against the intensity of Ryan, when he finds Spencer, standing ready, knowing. Understanding exactly what Brendon's feeling.

At sixteen, Brendon falls in love with the Smith brothers, but only one of them matters at the time, because Brendon's too young and Ryan's too raw, and neither of them could survive the flurry or the heat if they tried to take it a step further. Also, as he is, there's something missing from Ryan. He's incomplete, and while Brendon can admit to himself (very quietly, in the far, far recesses of his mind) that he's drawn to Ryan Smith like a moth to a flame, he also feels as if he's held back. Kept at arm's length, waiting. For the time being, Brendon pushes Ryan out of is head, to the side. Later, maybe, he thinks. Not yet.

Teenage years are shaky and hectic, a little too crazy, a little too fast-paced. Even if he were ready, Ryan would be too much for Brendon now, too much, too overwhelming. Not that Brendon is unique in that sense—Ryan has always been too much for everyone who's spent any decent length of time around him. That's why his brother has taken to running damage control—smoothing ruffled feathers, explaining Ryan's actions, convincing people that no, they didn't just see him do what they thought they just saw him do. Spencer's so used to cleaning up Ryan's messes that it doesn't seem so strange when he cleans up this one, too.

Only. This time it's not a mess, a mistake, leftovers, anything like that. Because where Spencer's a solid rock next to Ryan, he's just as unsteady and awkward as the next teen. He isn't so much cleaning up a mess as taking an opportunity Ryan won't allow himself to see. When Brendon kisses Spencer over a toy piano one afternoon, it never even enters his mind that it's because he can't have Ryan. Yes, he loves the way Ryan's zeal makes his heart beat faster, but it's not any more or less than he loves the steady, reliable rhythm of Spencer. When Brendon kisses Spencer, he's reminded that there's often room for a tempo shift. Suddenly Spencer's no longer in four-four time, he's made the transition to twelve-eight, and Brendon finds the faster pace exhilarating.

It's wonderful while it lasts, but after several months, Brendon and Spencer sort of drift apart, dating wise. They're getting busier with alien fighting and classwork and AP classes—even though they're maybe thinking that college isn't really in the cards anymore—and band practice. They're still good friends, it's just that they both realize that, well, that's what they are. Good friends. (Privately, Spencer sometimes thinks that they could have been something serious if it weren't for the fact that Ryan, well, _exists_. Spencer isn't too angry about it, mostly—Ryan's his brother, Spencer loves him, he just kind of wishes Ryan and Brendon would both do everyone else a favor and get a clue already.)

It ends, and Brendon tries dating a girl at his school, but it turns out to be abysmal failure, and after one and a half dates they promise each other to _never speak of it again_. Brendon's kind of awkward at school, doesn't have many friends besides Brent, and Brent's friends aren't exactly the kind of people who will tolerate Brendon hanging around. Brendon tends to hang out with the band nerds, though Brent's taking film this year to fill a fine arts requirement, and Brendon doesn't have a sixth period, so he sometimes hangs out in the film class during sixth period, since the teacher doesn't mind as long as Brendon doesn't disrupt the class.

It's Spencer's idea that they take pictures of the aliens they encounter so they can keep record of the species they come across. Brendon volunteers to develop all the photos, and he mostly does it out of the goodness of his heart, but it also doesn't hurt that the clerk at the photo place near Brendon's school is kind of really hot. Like _really_ hot. Also, definitely older than Brendon by at least three years, but Brendon's sure as hell not going to say anything about that.

It works out fine at first. Brendon drops off film, picks up prints, and chats casually with the clerk. He's cool, oh so cool, the epitome of suave—or at least as close to it as a kid who's still in high school and not Brent Wilson can be. Then one day Brendon comes in to pick up his pictures, and when the clerk passes them over, he has this excited look on his face. "Okay, I'm not trying to be weird or anything, but dude, those're some really awesome special effects you've got going on in those shots, with the explosions and the people dressed up as demons and stuff. What's it for? You do amateur movies or something? Who's doing your FX? Can I have their contact info? I might be able to find some freelance stuff for him to do."

Brendon bites his lip and tries very hard to not be all shifty, because yeah, no, his photos are completely innocent. Maybe sometimes there are some big explosions in the background because one of Ryan's inventions didn't work exactly how it was supposed to (or sometimes because it did), but that's just Ryan! Completely innocent photos. Except for how they're all of aliens, but Brendon can't exactly tell the _photo guy_ that, no matter what Andy from Fall Out Boy says about educating the people of Earth about extraterrestrial life.

He hems and haws and fudges around a lot, finally convincing the guy that really, the stuff looks a lot better in stills than it does in real life, and it would look horrible on film, honest. The clerk starts talking about movies with awesome special effects, and Brendon jumps on that, because, _yes_ , something to talk about that has nothing to do with how it is he manages to have photos of aliens and explosions and ray guns and spaceships and stuff. They start talking and it turns out that photo guy— _Shane_ , his name's Shane, though it says Fred on his badge, and Brendon really wants to ask about that, but he doesn't, because he's the Epitome of Suave—likes a lot of the same movies that Brendon likes, and that's... That's pretty neat, actually, since Shane is clearly very cool, and older. A lot older than Brendon, who very carefully does not mention the fact that he's still in high school.

One thing leads to another, and Brendon finds himself talking about the kinds of stuff he's learning from hanging out in Brent's film class (only he doesn't mention fine art requirements or free periods, instead makes use of the weird college speak he's been picking up from his older sisters and says he's auditing the class, because Brendon can totally be sneaky when he wants to be). Shane gets really excited by this, because apparently he's just finishing up a BA in film at UNLV. To Brendon's surprise, he's actually been picking up a lot more from Brent's class than he'd thought at first (or, alright, maybe he picks Shane's brain some to keep the conversation going, but that's not _really_ cheating, just using his natural talents), and before he knows what's going on, he's making plans to meet up with Shane after his afternoon shift this coming Saturday.

Brendon feels like he's on top of the world when he's walking to Brent's, sleeve of developed photos safe in his backpack, because Shane's _cool_ and _awesome_ and, yeah, pretty hot. It's amazing, honestly, because Brendon readily acknowledges that he is, in fact, a dweeb. He doesn't mind it, has been one for as long as he can remember. But talking to Shane, Brendon doesn't feel like a dweeb, a nerd, or a dork. Instead, he honestly _does_ feel cool and smooth. Brendon decides he really likes this having-friends thing.

Brendon plans to stealthily woo Shane with his awesome Wooing Skillz. Brendon can totally woo with the pros! He is a Master Wooer! This is because he has an awesome ass and very biteable lips. (At least, that's what Spencer always told him, but it is possible Spencer was slightly biased at the time? Or maybe not. Brendon still thinks Spencer's hips could totally be dangerous weapons if they fell into the wrong hands.) He starts meeting Shane after class and on weekends in places other than the photo store—cafés and smoothie places around town at first because Brendon may be nearly eighteen, but he still remembers everything his mom drummed into him when he was little about stranger-danger and being careful.

Still, Shane has a PlayStation back at his apartment, and okay, Brendon is a good, responsible boy, but he's only so strong. And anyway, he reasons, he's slightly psychic. If Shane's planning to murder him and dump his body in a dumpster, he's positive he would've picked up on it by now.

The siren call of the gaming system is strong, but Brendon only manages to make it thirty minutes into some weird, first-person shooter Shane has laying about before dropping the controller, turning, and kissing Shane hard. For a minute Shane freezes up, then he relaxes and starts kissing back as both of their characters get slaughtered by mutant-zombies (or something) on the screen behind them. Brendon doesn't really care, he's too busy concentrating on the _hot-slick-slide_ of Shane's mouth and tongue, too busy mentally cheering to himself for getting this right. Granted, he'd been pretty sure Shane wouldn't freak out—being slightly-psychic has its uses, after all—but it's always nice to be proved right.

He and Shane make out a handful of times at Shane's place and once behind the photo place, but it's not anything serious, not something that lasts. Mainly because it doesn't take Shane long to decide that yeah, it's just not doing it for him, he's pretty sure he's mostly-entirely straight. Things are awkward between them for a while, and at first Brendon worries because it wasn't like that when he and Spencer broke up. It turns out that Shane just needs time to get over it, though, since when Brendon runs into him outside the dorms at UNLV at the end of the summer while helping Brent move in, Shane smiles and says hi. They talk some, and Shane goes a very odd shade of blue and squeaks when it comes out that yeah, Brendon's only just finished high school, sorry for the charade. Brendon smiles and pats him on the shoulder. "Dude, don't stress it. Age of consent's sixteen in Nevada, and it's not like we ever did anything below the belt anyway." They trade e-mail addresses, and Brendon doesn't know how he does it, but he manages to keep touch over the hectic months that follow. He likes this having-friends-outside-the-band thing, and he isn't about to mess it up now.

On the road, there are other people, other boys. Nothing as serious as Spencer, as Shane, and if asked, Brendon is hard-pressed to give the names of all of them. Most are one-night stands, sometimes with guys he meets hanging around shows, sometimes with guys they meet through their work with extraterrestrials. Because they never stay in one place for very long, it's difficult to form anything real or lasting, unless it's with someone who's on the road with them. Sometimes Brendon glances at Spencer across the campfire at night and he wants so much that his heart aches. But that's finished, it's done. Besides, before too many months have passed, there's Jon. Brendon can't mess with that, no matter how lonely he gets.

Soon enough, a year has passed, and it's weird. Brendon doesn't feel all that different from how he did when he'd just finished high school—he's still doing the same thing, hanging around the same people. Brendon feels decades, centuries, _eons_ older than he did when he'd just finished high school—he's helping to _save the world_ , he's seen things people three times his age have never seen, had more close shaves than he's sure his parents have had in both their lives combined. Brendon's nineteen, and he's known the Smiths for not-quite four years. His life now is somehow in a totally, completely different place from where he thought it would be. He knows without a doubt that he wouldn't trade any part of the past three and a half years for anything.

They're back in Vegas, picking up Brent and checking in with the family. Well. The Smith family. Brendon tries to check in with his, and instead there are just angry, clipped words and nasty looks. He feels horrible about it, but he's actually incredibly glad Spencer insisted that he and Ryan take the youngest Smith girl, Susie, along. It could have been shouting, accusations, curses. All the things he isn't ready to hear, not from his family. Brendon can handle clipped words and nasty looks. Mostly.

They grab everything Brendon's interested in holding onto from the Urie house and escape to Black Belinda as quickly as possible. When Susie asks Ryan, in a very small voice, if they can go for milkshakes, he doesn't even argue, just shifts gears and heads over to the the diner where their other sister, Stacey, works. It's not until they get there that Ryan remembers Stacey is back home, not working today, and thus unable to give them discounts. Brendon can tell that Ryan is about to turn around, take them somewhere else where he can get something cheaper (it's odd what Ryan chooses to pinch pennies over), but Susie's already slipped out of the car. There's a burst of raucous laughter when she pushes the diner door open, and then she's gone, disappeared inside.

"Come on," Brendon says tiredly, dredging up a weak smile. "We should support independent businesses whenever possible." When he grabs Ryan's hand and tugs, Ryan doesn't even try to resist him.

Inside, they find that Susie's attached herself to a group of boys around their age, maybe a little younger. "Over here, over here!" she calls out, flailing and waving and as they get closer, Brendon recognizes one or two of the boys as some that he's seen around the Smith house in the past. Friends of Stacey's, he supposes. "These're the Alexes. Alexes, this is Brendon. He's going to marry me someday," Susie announces.

There are a handful, "Hey"s, and one, "I'm _not_ an Alex."

"The Alexes are going to buy us milkshakes! Because that one," Susie points to the Alex who claims he isn't one, "worships Ryan and wants to be him when he grows up."

Brendon laughs and slides into the booth next Susie. Ryan sits beside him, and Susie promptly scrambles over Brendon, elbowing him in the face and shoving him into the Notalex in an apparent quest to station herself in her brother's lap. "Sorry," Brendon says, looking a little chagrined as he's jammed up against the other boy.

"It's cool. Um. So. Brendon, huh?" The guy blushes a little, and Brendon grins.

"Yeah. You want to be Ryan?"

The guy blushes some more and mumbles something, wiggling his hands and laughing nervously, saying his name isn't actually Alex, it's Cash. It's a kind of stupid laugh, a stupid smile, a stupid name, but Brendon hangs out with the Smiths. He likes stupid, ridiculous stuff.

Brendon smiles and rests his cheek in his palm. He raises an eyebrow. "Sorry, what was that? I didn't quite catch it."

"I don't really want to _be_ Ryan," Cash explains. "I just. I think it's really cool how he can build stuff like he does, y'know? I try, sometimes, to do stuff like that? But, dude, it is _hard_."

Brendon laughs and nods, because yeah, he gets that, he understands. He wishes he could do what Ryan does with words, with machines, but Brendon's talents lie with music, so that's what he sticks to. Brendon prides himself in being realistic with his goals. Mostly. Shoving that thought aside, away, burying it deep as he can, Brendon shrugs. "Better to work with what you've got than try and force yourself to be something you're not." At the moment, Brendon's feeling unusually serious and introspective, which is, he supposes, what happens when you've effectively just cut all remaining ties with your family. Well, he mentally corrects himself, with the family that raised you. Brendon's no fool, he knows his family now is the band—Brent and the Smiths, probably Jon as well. Possibly Spencer and Ryan's parents and sisters too, though Brendon's cautious about that, because that was something that really happened back when he and Spencer were dating, and Brendon's not entirely sure where he stands with the rest of the Smiths now that he and Spencer are most decidedly off, with no chance of renewal.

"Woah, trippy. Sudden flashback to the annoying inspirational speaker we had to listen to last month," Cash says, boggling at Brendon with huge eyes. Brendon finds himself laughing again, louder this time, as the Alexes (and, here's the thing, they actually _are_ all named Alex—even if there are only three of them, Brendon still thinks it's strange) contribute their own opinions on said inspirational speaker.

Susie gets her milkshake and Cash and his friends quiz Ryan about what Panic! At the Disco has been up to for the past year. It turns out all four boys go to school with Stacey Smith and have a few classes with her, though they're a year above. When Ryan asks how they've been doing, Cash adopts a look of Deep Hurt and Hopeless Abandonment. "Dude, it's _tragic_. Stacey's _left us_! Where we once were five we now are four, and it's _awful_ ," Cash moans, clutching his chest.

"Wait, what?" Brendon asks. He knows it shouldn't—it's Spencer and Ryan's _little sister_ , fuck—but his mind immediately conjures a mental image of Stacey reigning supreme over her own little personal harem of Alexes (plus Cash). It's an outrageous idea, Stacey being part of a fivesome (Is it even called a fivesome? Maybe it's a ménage à cinq? Or is everything just an orgy once you get past three?) but okay, what is Brendon supposed to think when someone says something like that?

Ryan and Susie roll their eyes in unison, a trick that's kind of freaky but one that Brendon likes to pretend he's used to by now (he's not). "Stacey was in a band with these losers," Ryan explains. "Luckily, she has taste and quit before too long."

"Yeah, but now we don't have a place to practice," one of the Alexes points out. "Not everyone's garage has industrial level sound-proofing like yours."

"It's not industrial," Ryan insists. "It's really simple, anyone could do it. But if you're going to be bums about it, you guys can probably keep using it as a practice space, I'm pretty sure Mom and Dad won't mind. We're cleaning out our stuff anyway, this way you'll finally have some space in there." There's some general muttering, and Brendon gets the impression that part of the reason Cash and the Alexes like to practice at the Smith place is that they _don't_ have to haul their stuff there. Brendon can kind of understand how it might be handy to just go ahead and use the keyboard he's been storing in the Smiths' garage, but he seriously can't believe the Alex who apparently thinks nothing of touching Spencer's kit without permission. Brendon's never had the guts to try that, not even back when he and Spencer were still dating.

"But!" Susie says brightly from her spot in Ryan's lap. "They still try to get Stacey to give them free pie and they drive me places as long as I let them into the garage when they want _and_ Johnson wants into Stacey's pants, which I'm not supposed to know about but _everyone_ knows about it, so." She pushes her empty milkshake glass away slides off of Ryan, bouncy on the balls of her feet. "Ryan, Ryan, I still have homework to do, you'll help me right? It's Language Arts, not math, I swear. Please?" She promptly grabs Ryan's hand and drags him out of the diner. Brendon has to jog to keep up, barely managing a sketchy wave goodbye in the direction of the other guys before he's out the door, chasing after the Smiths.

Ryan and Brendon take Susie home, where, between suffering an existential breakdown in the Smiths' driveway and finally, _finally_ getting his hands on a real keyboard again, Brendon forgets all about the Alexes and their lone Notalex. The next day, Brendon and the guys head over to UNLV to pick Brent up from the dorms, and when Brendon slips away to track down Shane and say hi, Spencer follows him. Brendon expects some sort of massive fallout when it comes clear how it is that Brendon and Shane know each other, but seven months of hanging around Jon Walker have apparently mellowed Spencer out, and once he ascertains that Shane hasn't ever done anything to hurt or upset Brendon, he relaxes. Brendon bites his lip and tries to not get a thrill out of Spencer being protective. It's just a friend thing between them now. That's it, that's all. He's over it. Mostly.

All this considered, it's probably just as well that Brendon conspires with Ryan after a couple days on the road and they switch around rooms so that Spencer and Jon are sharing. It's meant as a sneaky plan to finally get those two to _do_ something, and it works, but it also somehow works out that Brendon's new roommate isn't Brent like he planned, but Ryan instead. Brendon doesn't _mind_ this so much as, well. He feels a little antsy is all. Antsy and anxious and by the time they're back in Vegas so they can return Brent at the end of the summer, Brendon's really regretting that everything is _fine_ and _dandy_ with Shane and completely, totally, one hundred percent platonic.

They're in town for a few days again so that Ryan and Spencer can do family bonding things, or something, and so Spencer can formally introduce Jon to his parents as his boyfriend. He loves the Smith family, he does, but between feeling left out and just feeling _frustrated_ , Brendon is about ready to scream. Instead, he grabs a set of sticks and plops himself down behind Spencer's kit, ready to make a shitload of noise.

He's snapping out beats with a fast foot and even quicker wrists, making a godawful racket, but all of it controlled, all of it structured even if it is loud as all get out, when a rough, unpolished bass line joins in. Brendon's hands go still and his head snaps up. He expected Jon, or Brent, maybe, come over to visit after class, but instead it's Stacey's friend, Cash. "Um," is Brendon's oh so elegant greeting. "Dude. Not your bass."

Cash shrugs like he really doesn't care, and maybe he doesn't. Consequences don't seem to concern Cash so much. "Not your kit. Didn't know you played. You're fucking awesome on those suckers, man."

"I'm a part of the band," Brendon says defensively. Sure, they haven't been playing music much, but Brendon's hoping that'll change now. Brent's room is empty for the next nine, ten months, so they're planning to store the instruments there and turn it into a practice room.

"Yeah, but you're like... piano man, aren't you?"

"Well, and guitar, sometimes, if we need it. Sometimes bass," Brendon corrects, pushing sweaty bangs out of his eyes, then letting them fall right back again. He's not bragging or showing off, really he isn't. He's just stating facts.

" _Dude_. Can I steal you? We totally need a new guitarist since Stacey left, and if you're anywhere near as good on guitar as you are on drums, we'll take you. You're like magic." Cash's voice is so full of awe that Brendon can't help but laugh as he shakes his head.

"Sorry, I've sold my soul to the Smiths. You could probably borrow Brent, though? I think he wants to try guitar since Jon keeps showing him up on bass, and dude, then you can have a college kid in your band. Instant cred or something," Brendon suggests, flushed and pleased with the praise.

"Maybe," Cash concedes. "You know you wouldn't have to change your name to Alex, right? That's totally optional."

Brendon opens his mouth with a totally witty comeback when he stops, turns bright red, and his brain stutters to a stop. He pushes up his glasses, then blinks several times, but it's not his eyes Brendon needs to clear the image from, it's his mind. Jerking his head up, he meets Cash's gaze and, if anything, flushes more. "Um. Dude. You know how Ryan like, invents stuff? Like, um. Engines and phones and things?" Cash nods furiously. "And how we kind of... deal with aliens?" Brendon knows Cash and the Alexes know about that, they brought it up more than once at the diner a few months back. Cash nods some more, just as eagerly as the first time. "Well, I'm also kind of psychic. So I can pretty much see exactly what you're thinking right now, and, um. Yeah." Cash starts to nod again, then apparently processes what Brendon's just said, because he stops and blanches.

"Wait, so, you mean you can actually see what I—"

" _Yes_." Brendon's having a really hard time trying not to blush. God, this is almost as bad as the time last week when he was looking for Spencer and ended up accidentally hooking into Spencer's head for a moment and seeing a _lot_ more of Jon than Brendon's used too seeing.

Cash's response to this news is not at all what Brendon expects. "Sweet," Cash practically crows. "So, hey, you wanna—"

"Fuck yeah," Brendon groans, scrambling out from behind the drums and stumbling across the room. He pins Cash to the wall, kissing him hard. Sometimes, Brendon thinks as Cash sloppily kisses back, it really pays to be slightly-psychic. It totally cuts down on the number of awkward stares and general flailing and running about, lets you skip straight to the good parts. Suddenly, Brendon isn't feeling so frustrated anymore.

Everything's awkward and elbows, and where Spencer used to complain about how clumsy Brendon can be when he's anxious and overly eager, Cash just laughs it off and proceeds to accidentally step on Brendon's toes. Brendon follows this up with an unintentional elbow to the solar plexus, and really, it's amazing they manage to get off at all. It's not until after, when they're gathering clothes and pulling things back into place that Brendon has a sudden panic attack and thinks to ask Cash how old he is.

Cash laughs again and it's still a stupid laugh, but it's starting to grow on Brendon. "Seventeen, totally legal, no worries."

"Y'know I'm leaving in a couple of days, right?"

"Um, duh. Like I said, seventeen. Not exactly expecting flowers and forever here, dude."

"Just checking," Brendon says, grinning right on back. This is good, he thinks. This is cool. This is what he needed. "Wasn't expecting them either." Flowers and forever just don't seem to be in the cards for Brendon, at least not from the person he wants them from the most.

Brendon quickly shoves that thought away, replaces it with a smile, a grin. "It's cool, then. Hey, hey, give me your phone, we should totally keep in touch. We can talk about the stupid stuff the Smiths get themselves into."

"Or, fuck, the Alexes," Cash agrees with a laugh. "Johnson totally tried to ask Stacey out the other day. I think she smacked him down with just her hips." He sighs a wistful sigh and it's enough to make Brendon burst into giggles, because seriously, the Smith Hips. Definitely dangerous weapons, but that doesn't stop everyone from wanting them.

He and Cash have sex at twice more before Brendon and his band head out of Vegas for another year. Well, for another year or at least until December—Spencer and Ryan have been making vague promises to their parents about trying to get back in time for Christmas this time around, and somewhere along the way, Brendon's being made to include himself in those promises as well. If he knew more exact details about how it came about that Spencer's parents adopted Ryan in the first place, Brendon would probably start forming theories about the Smiths' propensity to take in strays. He doesn't, though, so he keeps quiet.

On the road, Brendon finds it somehow easier to keep in touch with Cash than it was to keep in touch with Shane last year. For one thing, there's none of the lingering awkwardness of hey, we used to make out, but then you decided you weren't into guys like that. For another, this time Brendon isn't forced to sneakily borrow Ryan's computer or Spencer's phone in order to send off a quick e-mail or text. He has his own phone now, courtesy of Ryan's genius, which means keeping in touch on his own time, his own terms.

There's also the added advantage of Cash being in the know about aliens and slightly-psychic abilities and not having to be elusive and sketchy when it comes to what Panic! _really_ gets up to on the road. Though apparently, Brendon doesn't have to be so roundabout with his explanations to Shane anymore either. A month after they leave Vegas, he's on the phone with Cash, who starts talking about his band of Alexes. "The CAB," Cash says excitedly, "get it? The Cash-Alex Band, it's awesome." Brendon laughs, because when he hears that he just thinks taxis, and before he knows what he's doing, he's singing 'Big Yellow Taxi' and Cash is accusing Brendon of being a total nerd, which, hey, Cash should already _know_ that about Brendon by now.

"I thought you guys still needed someone on guitar," Brendon says, rolling his eyes at Ryan, who's glaring and grumbling about Brendon's tendency to burst into random snatches of song. Ryan is totally not in any position to complain, though, seeing how he's the one one who, if allowed, will ramble on and on about the war of currents, resistors and capacitors, kinetic versus potential energy—all kinds of random things that just go straight over Brendon's head. Brendon wonders idly if Cash was calling the band The SCAB before Stacey left, and he tries very hard to muffle his snickering. He doesn't want to have to explain that one to Cash, not when there's too great a chance it might eventually get back to Stacey. Sometimes, Stacey is just as scary as her oldest brother.

"Alex can play guitar too," Cash says, and Brendon honestly has no idea which one he's talking about, since Cash has this tendency to alternate between calling the Alexes by their last names and just calling them Alex. Sometimes Brendon gets the feeling that Cash isn't entirely sure which one's which either. "And, hey, didn't I tell you? Dude. _Dude_. Thank you so, _so_ much for the recommend with Brent! I mean, you're right, he kind of sucks on guitar, though I guess he's getting better, but it's like, he knows all these people— _college_ people, Bden, oh my _god_. College _chicks_. Anyway, there's this one guy, Shane, right? He's interested in movies and stuff, does like, these little indie films, and he wants to film aliens, so Brent's going to take us all out Weevil hunting, it's gonna be fucking _awesome_!"

Something twists in Brendon's stomach and he bites his lip and tells himself it's because of the way Cash mentioned college chicks, not because of the mention of Shane. "Yeah, Shane's really cool," he says finally, releasing his lip. He must sound a little off, because Spencer twists around in the front seat of the car to frown at him, and Ryan leaves off scribbling away in his notebook to rest a hand on Brendon's knee. Brendon shoots them both grateful smiles and shakes his head slightly. He's fine, mostly. This is something he needs to deal with on his own.

A few days later, Shane sends Brendon a text. _aliens huh_ , is all it says and Brendon winces. _Sorry didnt know how to explain_ , he sends back, praying that they're still cool. A lot of the time Brendon forgets Shane isn't just like Cash, but every now and then it really hits him that Shane is older, way older than Cash, than Brendon. They might just be friends now, but sometimes Brendon feels like he has to try harder, do more to impress Shane. It's stupid, he knows it is, but. It's an automatic reaction.

Brendon's phone vibrates against his thigh with a new text fifteen minutes later. When he checks, it's from Shane. _its cool_ , is all it says, but that's quickly followed up by, _were cool dont worry_ , and then, randomly, _veronica?_. Brendon laughs and grins, relaxing. _Shut up_ , he sends back, still smiling, _Ryan named her. Ryans awesome._ Brendon isn't entirely sure how he manages to find these crazy friends who accept aliens and other outrageous phenomena so easily, but he's not about to complain. In comparison to the stuff Brendon encounters on a daily basis, the stuff his parents freak out over seems practically normal. He knows he's lucky to have found the friends that he has.

Despite their tendency to land themselves in life-or-death situations, things are somehow easier on the road. Brendon's so busy worrying about living from one day to the next, about not dying from an alien attack (or angry victims, or Spencer before his morning coffee), that he doesn't have time to think about who or what he had to give up to be here. Living in the hectic way that they do, time rushes past, days into weeks, weeks into months. At one point they run into Fall Out Boy again, which is great. Mostly because Panic!'s cash is starting to run low again, which means it's time to have Ryan sell some new gadget or gewgaw to Pete. Or maybe just force Pete to cough up some more dough for one of the old ones. They mostly just leave the forcible removal of money from Pete Wentz's pocketbook to Spencer, and the generally conning of Wentz to Ryan (it's the big eyes that do it, Brendon maintains, no one can really resist Ryan when he turns his big brown eyes on them and starts speaking earnestly). When the two bands part ways again, Panic! are definitely feeling flush. Seeing as how it's mid November, a band meeting is held, during which control of the money is cleverly wrested away from Ryan and distributed evenly amongst the four of them for the purpose of finally doing the Christmas shopping they've put off for so long. Once they've stopped off with Jon's family so he can check in and drop off their gifts (Mrs. Walker insists they stay for Thanksgiving, and Brendon swears he's never eaten so much in his _life_ ), they decide it's time to head back to Vegas.

It's over fifteen hundred miles from Chicago to Vegas the short way, and they have a tendency to get distracted, to take detours, so it's past the middle of December and already winter by the time they finally find themselves driving west out of Flagstaff. Jon and Brendon are singing loudly along to the soundtrack of _Rent_ in spite of Ryan's protests that Brendon's been playing it almost constantly for nearly two weeks now. They're in the middle of a rousing rendition of 'La Vie Bohème' when Brendon gets a text from Shane that simply reads, _ahahahahaha ducks_. It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, and when he sends back a tentative, _What_ , all he gets in reply is a YouTube url. Next to him, Spencer's phone chimes. When Spencer checks it, it's a text from Brent, the same url that Shane just sent Brendon, though this time it's followed up by a, _You're coming back soon right? Might have a situation, don't tell Cabbabies._ Brendon and Spencer raise eyebrows at each other and share a look, then Brendon's leaning over the seat in front of them, grabbing the laptop out of Jon's lap. Jon offers a token protest, but then he's too busy turning and craning his neck, trying to see.

The video on YouTube is clearly one Shane shot, and at first Brendon and Spencer are too busy laughing to explain anything to Jon, though once it's played through, they turn the computer and restart the video so he can see too. It starts out showing The Cab and Brent poking around near the edge of what's probably Lake Mead, not doing much of anything. Cash wanders off to the side, out of the frame, and then, half a beat later, he's running back, dozens of Mallards chase after him, flying and running, quacking up a storm. It honestly _is_ hilarious, and once he's made sure Jon's seen it through, Brendon turns the laptop back around and plays it again.

"I don't see why Brent thought this was important," Spencer huffs, though he's clearly suppressing a grin.

Brendon's about to agree when something catches his eye, and he automatically hits the space bar, pausing the video mid-frame. "What's that?" he asks, gesturing to a smudge in the background. When the ducks started going after Cash, Shane turned to film it better, and there's. There's something not right about that landscape.

"It's a tree," Spencer says, sparing the screen a quick glance.

"Next to Lake Mead?" Brendon clearly doubts the logic behind this.

"Someone could have planted it," Ryan says from the front. He sounds a little peeved, probably because everyone in the car except him has seen the video, since he has to pay attention to the road.

"It's the wrong shape for a tree," Brendon stubbornly insists. "Brent sent us the link for this thinking something was off. Something serious enough he didn't want to look into it with The Cab." Which, right, Brendon totally gets. The Cab are great guys, very awesome, but he wouldn't want to be Brent, running after them and trying to keep them out of trouble. He _definitely_ wouldn't want to be Brent, trying to explain to the parents of one of the Cabbabies how their son accidentally got eaten by aliens, oops. It's a little frightening how The Cab seem to have imprinted on Brent, following him around like he's their mama duck and they're his ducklings.

Spencer chews his lip thoughtfully. "Well. Good thing we're headed back to Vegas, huh?"

"What's so weird about a tree next to a lake?" Jon wants to know. He reaches for the laptop, so Brendon goes ahead and passes it back. "Lakes mean water, water means plants, trees are plants." Brendon frowns, not following Jon's logic at first. It takes a moment for it to click, and then, yeah, he supposes Jon might think that. Sometimes Brendon forgets that Jon hasn't always been with them, that he's from back east, where they have _real_ lakes.

"Mead is a man-made reservoir," Ryan explains, "and it's in the desert. It doesn't ever get full enough to overflow and soak the banks, so there aren't really any more plants than you'd expect to find in the area if the lake wasn't there. Plus, we've been in a drought for a while now—the water level's been dropping for years."

"Maybe it's a... droopy cactus?" Jon suggests, tilting his head to the side and studying the screen.

"Saguaros don't grow wild in Nevada," Ryan says, finally chancing a glance at the laptop as traffic hits a slow spot. "And there isn't any other species of cacti that would grow like that."

Brendon's about to put in his two bits when Spencer shushes them all because he's got Brent on the phone. There's a rapid-fire conversation, most of which Brendon misses because he's known Brent and the Smiths for years, sure, but that doesn't mean he actually _understands_ them all the time. When Spencer gets off the phone, he huffs and tugs at his hair, clearly irritated. "Apparently there've been vague reports of a 'Loch Mead monster' over the last couple months. Brent took the kids and Shane out to look into it, figuring it was probably just another Weevil. He only caught a glimpse of it when ducks went after Cash, and that's just because he was already looking in that direction when the ruckus started, but he thinks this is big, way bigger than a Weevil. Big enough he didn't say anything, just got Shane and the Alexes out of there before they saw anything. Fuck. Why does this stuff always happen close to home?"

"Could be a rift in time and space. I think I read something about them in the classified sections of the UNIT website. There's some group in England that's supposedly studying one way up above London," Ryan says vaguely. "The whole thing sounds a little too much like a poor plot device like the Hellmouth from _Buffy_ , though, honestly."

"Ryan. It was a rhetorical question," Spencer grinds out, and Brendon and Jon snicker at each other. Sometimes (frequently) the Smiths are _hilarious_.

"So, what? Are we heading to UNLV and picking up Brent, then checking out Mead? We've got enough time, right? It's only the twenty-third," Brendon says.

Spencer shakes his head. "Brent said to just head straight to the lake without him. He's finished with finals, but he's worried that if we bother to pick him up and then check this out, there's too good chance that Cash and the Alexes'll try to tag along. Seriously, Brendon, what were you thinking, telling them to get in touch him? Now he's gone all weird and protective over them." Brendon shrugs, but doesn't bother to answer, since he figures this is probably just another of Spencer's rhetorical questions.

Lake Mead is actually along the route they're currently on, so they just keep on along the forty to the ninety-three, and only a couple hours have passed since Spencer's call with Brent when they finally get there. Though Brent's reliable, knows what to look for, the guys don't expect to find much in the way of unusual anything as they get closer to the water. They make their way to Echo Bay, the campground closest to where Brent saw the whatever-it-was with Shane and The Cab. A few families are there, though not too many—it's two days to Christmas, most people want to spend the time with at home or with relatives, not freezing their butts off in the cold desert winter—and half a dozen college kids. The guys pretend not to notice the odd looks Black Belinda receives.

They really want to be further south, but it's late enough in the day that they figure screw it, they can stop now, get some sleep, be nice and rested for any hiking they have to do tomorrow. Brendon insists they build a campfire so they can roast marshmallows later, since that's what you _do_ when you're camping. Not that he's allowed to, since the other guys have banned him from playing with fire, though he can usually get Ryan to toast marshmallows for him, if he makes big enough puppy eyes. Once they have the fire going, Spencer starts on dinner, cooking it over the fire so that they don't get any weird looks about cooking in the back of their hearse. Ryan's in a mood, so Brendon grabs Jon and goes to question the other campers while they wait for dinner. They might be lacking Brent and his thing, but people like Jon, they feel at ease around him, tend to open up. People like Brendon too, but usually because he reminds them of an annoying little brother. Brendon's not entirely pleased by this, and he tries to discourage that perception.

It seems that Brent was right about there being talk of a "Loch Mead monster." The college kids are only there because they hope to see it, which Brendon thinks is kind of weird, though Jon insists it isn't, muttering something about, "Nerdy, conspiracy theorist, anti-government college kids," and shooting them suspicious looks. Brendon and the others aren't used to people being aware and accepting of the things they hunt down. They don't say it outright, but the general consensus between them is that it's probably best that they don't admit that's why they're there too. Better to not encourage the rumors, particularly since they're not even sure if this thing (if it _is_ real) has any ill-intentions. Some aliens just end up in the wrong place at the wrong time, like Veronica. Others, like Andy, come to Earth just looking for a place to live their lives. Though, okay, maybe Andy is a bad example of that—Brendon's pretty sure that if Andy _could_ manage to spark an anarchical, anti-establishment movement, he would. Fortunately, Pete's enough of a handful that it probably won't happen anytime soon. Hopefully.

The next morning they tumble out of the hearse sometime around nine with packs full of water bottles, beef jerky, and these odd little devices that Ryan whipped up while Spencer was driving the other day and is currently calling "stun sticks," for lack of a better name. They wave to the college kids (a sleepy looking lot, apparently they haven't yet mastered how to make coffee over a campfire), lock up the car, and head south. Brendon pokes around a bit with his head, but either the water disrupts thoughts, or there's nothing odd living under the surface of the lake. Or maybe, it's shielded. That happens sometimes too. When he tries to explain this to the others, Ryan just rolls his eyes and mutters something about useless psychics, which Brendon feels is horribly unfair and that Ryan's really not in any position to speak, seeing as how it's not like _he_ has any sort of psychic talent. Brendon kicks at the ground a lot and grumbles about stupid Smiths being overly-critical of things they don't really understand.

At noon, they break for lunch, and Brendon eats the last peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and Ryan has to eat the honey and marshmallow one. It is a small act of rebellion, but Brendon savors it for the victory he knows it to be. His methods of revenge are subtle, but sweet. Oh so sweet. Particularly when Brendon's used extra honey to make the sandwich, heh.

Since they're slow and boring, the others are still eating. Bored, Brendon wanders down to the water's edge to amuse himself while he waits. He's just poking around, singing to himself as he turns over rocks and examines scrubby little desert plants, when something burst out of the water, nearly knocking him over. "Um," is all Brendon can think to say as he lies on the ground, staring up into huge, grey-green eyes set deep in a mottled green-brown face that has to be at least half as long as Brendon is tall. "I mean you no harm? Please don't eat me?" he tries after a few beats, smiling tentatively upwards. He gives a small, sketchy wave.

The alien (because it _has_ to be an alien, the only other possibility is that it's like, a dinosaur or something, which would be _impossible_ ) tilts its head to the side and makes a thrumming noise, nudging Brendon's chest with its nose. It isn't an unkind gesture, and Brendon laughs with delight, grinning up at it. He's getting vague impressions of _fish rocks birds cool blue **sound**_ and Brendon knows, he _knows_ the reason its decided to poke its head up now, with him, is because he was singing. When they get back to town, he'll have to ask the Alex that sings—DeLeon, Brendon thinks—if he was singing when Brent brought The Cab here.

"...Brendon?" a shaky voice calls from further up the bank, and Brendon grins, a thrill of happiness running through him. Ryan may complain about Brendon being useless, but he's always ready and willing to provide backup if Brendon needs it. Brendon's eyes flick to the side, and sure enough, there's Spencer, creeping along the ground, face set it a look of grim determination and stun stick in hand. From where he's standing, Brendon can't see Jon without turning his head, but he can sense where Jon is, standing behind Ryan, holding Ryan by the shoulders, keeping him from doing anything rash and foolish.

"I'm fine, it's cool, everything's cool," Brendon calls out, projecting a wave of reassurance under the words. "It just wants me to keep on singing. Who knew dinosaurs were fans of 'Rubber Ducky, You're the One'?" He grins and carefully, ever so carefully gets to his feet and resumes singing. This time, the alien thrums along with him, harmonizing.

"Plesiosaurs aren't dinosaurs," Ryan grumbles, sounding less tense, less on edge. Brendon can feel him moving closer. "Just because they were large, Mesozoic reptiles and contemporaries of the dinosaurs doesn't make them dinosaurs. They're from a completely different Superorder. Anyway, it looks like _Thalassiodracon_ , which was a pliosaur and not a plesiosaur. Only it's too big for _Thalassiodracon_..."

"Ryan," Spencer says very carefully, "that's all well and good, but. What is an impossible prehistoric creature doing in a man-made lake? That thing is big enough that people should have noticed it a long time ago."

"Maybe it only just arrived?" Jon suggests. "It seems pretty harmless. At least, Brendon looks like he's having a good time bonding with it, if nothing else."

Jon's right on that account, because Brendon _is_ having a good time bonding. He's finished the song, and the alien's lowered its head so Brendon can stroke it while he croons softly. The skin feels more leathery than scaly, and it's warm under his hand, so he's thinking this probably isn't a reptile at all. He's still picking up vague images from it, and there aren't any words, at least, none that he can really understand, but he's getting the impression that it's not because this isn't an intelligent being. "I think Jon might be onto something," Brendon says quietly, keeping his voice pitched low and soothing. "It doesn't feel angry or dangerous or anything like that. Actually, if anything, it seems a bit, well." Brendon's not quite sure how to say this.

"A bit what?" Spencer asks encouragingly.

Brendon bites his lip. "Okay, so. I know this might sound a bit crazy? But I think it might be a baby. That hatched here. Like... Okay, so it remembers a dark place? A cramped, dark place with smooth walls, only it just remembers it in a really vague, abstract way. Which, alright, doesn't mean much of anything at all, since hey, deep water is dark. But then there's a sort of... a breaking, a feeling of completion, and being able to stretch out and poke around, finally. It doesn't seem to mean any harm, it's just curious about things is all."

"Shit," Spencer groans, sounding annoyed. "You mean there's a breeding population in there? Ugh, there is no way we're equipped to handle this as we are now. You know as soon as the government or UNIT or someone finds out about this, they're going to rush over here and try to cut them up and see how they tick."

Unfortunately, this is probably true. None of them have very strong faith in the ability of the U.S. government to deal with aliens in a peaceful, non-threatening, non-invasive manner. And from what they've gathered, UNIT isn't much better a lot of the time. "Well, um. Actually? I don't think that's so much of a problem? The breeding population thing, I mean," Brendon says. "I think it's just the one. It's really... it seems lonely, and a little scared. It likes fish, and birds, and plants, they taste good. But it doesn't have any... 'friends' is the best term, I guess." The actual mental impression is more like, _big thing like me good thoughts_ , but "friends" will work for now. "I'm guessing it's slightly telepathic—I'm hearing it better than I hear you three, like how I can hear Bob better—and it's been trying to find a–a 'mother,' or something, because it's lonely, but it can't." Brendon sighs and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I guess that's not much help."

"1948," is Ryan's sudden sharp, focused pronouncement.

"What?"

"In 1948, a B-29 bomber crashed in Overton Arm of Lake Mead. The mission the plane had been on was classified, so the crash was hushed up and details weren't released until fifty years later," he rattles off. Glancing at Spencer, Ryan grins. "Remember? There was a big hubbub about it summer before sophomore year? Anyway, the official story is that the plane was studying the solar variation of the sun, but what if it wasn't that? What if it was actually transporting something top secret?"

"Like a giant, alien egg?" Brendon suggests excitedly.

"Uh, hate to break it to you? But most eggs would rot after sixty years, not hatch," Jon points out. "And I don't think the government would just _leave_ it at the bottom of the lake if it thought it might be an alien egg."

Ryan sighs a sigh of long suffering. " _Alien_ egg, Jon. It doesn't have to follow Earth rules. Also, the government might've assumed it was destroyed, or they couldn't find it, or they didn't realize it was an egg and not just an odd rock."

"Plus, look at the size of it, and it's still a baby," Brendon pipes up. "Elephant gestation lasts twenty-two months, while the incubation period for ostriches is, like, twice the length of what it is for chickens—large offspring often need longer periods of time to develop. Since it's clearly meant to be a water-dwelling, it probably doesn't matter that it wasn't incubated by a parent." The others stare at him, and Brendon glares. "So what if I actually listen to Brent when he rambles on about what he's learning in his classes? It's interesting stuff."

"None of which helps to answer the question of what do we're going do about Nessie here," Spencer says after a couple beats, getting them back on track. "It can't stay here—it's practically right next door to Vegas, and besides, Mead isn't meant to sustain a lifeform of this size. Plus, it's probably just going to grow even bigger—it really needs a larger body of water." He rubs his face and groans. "Ugh. We did _not_ need this the day before Christmas. Mom's going to kill us if we don't show up tomorrow, and there's no way we can take care of this in less than twenty-four hours."

This, unfortunately, is true. Even Ryan has to admit that he needs at least two days to come up with a teleporter or a shrink-ray (the two best solutions they can think of at the moment), and even more time than that to test them so he doesn't accidentally make sushi out of Nessie (Spencer's name sticks, despite Brendon's quiet campaign for "Meady"). In the end, they resort to having Brendon try to telepathically instruct Nessie to stay out of sight of other humans and away from the shore for the next few days. He's not entirely sure how much Nessie understands, but Brendon crosses his fingers and tries to hope for the best. The drive from Mead to Summerlin is a quiet one, they're all too concerned about Nessie's fate to be much in the holiday spirit, though they try put on brave faces when they arrive at the Smiths'. They're greeted not just by Ryan and Spencer's family, but by Brent and The Cab as well, as Brent's method of distraction seems to've apparently taken the form of band practice.

"You're late," Mrs. Smith accuses when she finally releases a still-blushing Spencer from a hug (Brendon's still grinning from his; moms are awesome). "We thought you'd be here yesterday."

"Yeah, well. We had to look into something over at Lake Mead," Spencer mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. It's kind of amazing, Brendon thinks, that the Smith brothers think nothing of talking about their adventures with _aliens_ with their parents. Of course, these _are_ the people who raised Ryan, and Ryan's not exactly what you might call normal. Aliens probably seem practically mundane to them by now.

"You mean the Loch Mead monster?" DeLeon asks excitedly, popping up over Johnson's shoulder. "We were totally over there the other day, and we didn't see anything, but the ducks were acting weird and they attacked Cash—it was awesome! Shane caught it on video and everything!"

"Dude, it was _way weird_ ," Cash says suddenly. "Shane put it online and apparently a lot of people have been watching it? I mean, this [weird guy in a leather jacket](http://pics.livejournal.com/clarityhiding/pic/0009xect/) even stopped me on the street and totally quizzed me about it today! He wasn't even local! Like, English or Australian or something." He shakes his head. "Just weird."

After dinner, Brent and the Alexes play some of The Cab's stuff, and Brendon and Jon and Spencer give feedback while running errands for Ryan, who's apparently decided that a shrink-ray is the way to go. "Much easier to test and make sure I get it right than a teleporter. Besides, then we'd need a really big body of freshwater, since we don't know if Nessie can handle saltwater, and probably the only place big enough nearby are the Great Lakes, and there are way too many people near them for Nessie to be safe," Ryan explains as he connects this circuit to that one with his sonic thingamabob.

In the end, whether or not the shrink-ray works proves and entirely moot point, because when they return to the lake on the twenty-sixth, they can't find Nessie. Brendon sings himself hoarse and pushes his psychic abilities to their limits, while Ryan quickly constructs a sonar device and scans the water, but no matter what they do, they can't seem to find the alien. Ryan increases the range and precision of his sonar, and they spend the next two days circling the entire lake, but to no avail. Nessie seems to have disappeared off the face of the planet, or at least out of Lake Mead. "Maybe it found a way to go home?" Jon suggests awkwardly, patting Brendon on the shoulder as Spencer drives them away, west towards California where hopefully sun and palm trees will be enough to cheer them up (they don't expect them to be).

"Or maybe the government found it and cut it up into itty-bitty pieces," Brendon says morosely. "We should've never left! If we'd stayed, this wouldn't've happened."

"We can't know that for sure."

"It was just a _baby_."

Spencer sighs and reaches over to rub Brendon's shoulder. "You can't save them all, Brendon. You can only try."

Next to Brendon, Ryan makes an upset noise and scoots closer. Sighing, Brendon curls around him, glad that at least Ryan understands and isn't trying to justify their shortcomings.

Life moves on and things for the band continue as usual, if with a slightly more melancholy mood about them, at least for the first couple of weeks back on the road. After that, they're much too busy ensuring their continued survival to spend too much time worrying over might-have-beens. Still, Brendon doesn't doubt that their inability to save Nessie from whatever unknown fate befell her in part inspires Jon to suggest a couple months later that they might want to try taking a break. Cooling their heels for a bit.

Somehow, "cooling their heels" translates to getting off the road, and they end up renting a cabin in the mountains just forty minutes, an hour outside of Vegas. Brendon claims he has nothing to do with the location, and that's probably mostly true, except for how he unintentionally influences people sometimes with his brain. He needs to talk to Bob Bryar about that, honestly—it's bad enough that he's still having troubles shielding out other people's thoughts, he doesn't need to accidentally tell them what to think as well. The other guys give him indulgent smiles when Brendon tries to explain all this, how they could totally stay somewhere else—they don't even have to be in Nevada!—and Spencer pats him on the head. All of which leads Brendon to think that maybe he and Cash weren't nearly as discreet as they thought they were being last August.

They've only been in the cabin for two, three days when Brendon's phone quacks to let him know he has a new text from Cash. He'd be surprised he even gets service up here in the middle of nowhere, except they've found that they get service _everywhere_ with the phones Ryan builds. Which is actually to be expected, what with how Ryan never does anything in halves.

Cash's message is simple— _our 3rd show 2nite win_ —and makes Brendon smile. In his mind, it's somewhat ironic that while Brent's the one who decided to stay the course and stick to the safe path by continuing on with college right away, he's also the first member of their band to perform live. Granted, it's with another band, but still. It's the concept of the thing. _Awesome_ , Brendon sends back, still smiling to himself. _Where you playing?_ he sends after a minute's thought. Since they figure they'll be here for a while, they haven't bothered to tell anyone they're in the area yet. Brendon thinks it might be fun to show up at the show unannounced just because he can.

He gets the details from Cash and scrambles down off the roof of the cabin, clambering in through the window. "Hey, hey," Brendon calls out as he crashes down the stairs, "who wants to go to a show with me? The Cab's playing tonight."

"Ugh, no thanks. They're a boyband," Ryan says with shudder, not lifting his eyes from his book.

Brendon rolls his eyes. "Hate to break it to you, Smith, but we're a boyband too. C'mon, someone needs to come with me, you won't let me drive the car."

Jon lifts his head from Spencer's lap. "Well, maybe..." he starts to say, but Spencer's already shaking his head.

"We're staying in tonight," Spencer says firmly. "You and I have _plans_ , Walker."

"We do? Oh! Right, we do." Jon smiles slowly up at Spencer, who smiles right on back. It's kind of disgusting, Brendon thinks fondly.

"Ryan, c'moooon," Brendon pleads, bouncing over to flop down next to Ryan and tug his book away from his face. "We can watch Brent play, see how he's doing on guitar. It'll be awesome, promise." Ryan holds out until Brendon reminds him that if he stays at the cabin, he's going to be stuck listening to Spencer and Jon have noisy sex all night. As this is not something that appeals to Ryan anymore than it appeals to Brendon, it proves a very effective argument.

The show is amazing, made even better by the fact that Brendon _knows_ the band. Of course, he knows other bands too, but not like he knows this one, and besides, that's _Brent_ up there. Wow. Brendon isn't sure if it's because The Cab are pushing him to practice more, or if he's pushing them to practice more in hopes of keeping them away from aliens, but Brent seems better on guitar than he ever was on bass, and Brendon can feel his chest swelling with pride. When the band finally finishes their set, stumbling off the stage and laughing like crazy, Brendon grabs Cash and pulls him in for a hungry kiss before he can say anything.

"Hi," Brendon says a bit breathlessly when they finally part for air, "you've gotten really good."

"You think? Dude, you should have told me you were coming, I didn't even know you guys were in the area," Cash says happily, and Brendon grins. He's flying high on excitement and adrenaline, and he hardly feels guilty when he slings an arm around Cash's shoulders and drags him off so they can catch up in private, abandoning Ryan to the rest of The Cab and Brent.

Probably. Probably Brendon's thing with Cash would've just stayed that—a thing. Normally, it wouldn't have amounted to much, since Brendon's always on the road, and Cash is still in high school and all. Only then there's the cabin. The cabin's fine for the first week, and aside from the one show, Brendon feels no need to go into town, to be anywhere other than with his band, up in the mountains.

Then the second week starts, and things start to get. Itchy. Spencer's snapping more often, Jon's starting whenever a twig snaps, Ryan's complaining about the lack of parts, and Brendon. Brendon is getting antsy from the _quiet_. He's used to quiet—the quiet of the inside of Black Belinda, the quiet of a country road in the middle of nowhere, the quiet of when his shields are working properly like they sometimes do, the quiet of a small town with a population of less than a hundred—but this is different. This is just the softest whispers of just a handful of other mental voices, this is quiet that goes on and on for _days_ , and it makes Brendon uneasy and anxious.

It doesn't help when, at the end of the second week, Spencer's snapping combines with Jon's twitchiness to create a massive, explosive yelling match and Brendon and Ryan both escape the car. Ryan slides into the driver's seat without thinking. "I. Susie has a dance recital today, I think," he says shakily. "You want to—"

"Yeah, sure, yeah, I love Susie's dancing, just fucking _drive_ already," Brendon babbles, buckling his seatbelt as Ryan puts the car in gear and heads down the mountain.

They're just intending to go to Susie's recital, but then Shane is there (he's apparently got a deal with Mrs. Smith where he films all of Susie's recitals in exchange for money and home cooked meals), and he's come straight from filming the Cabbabies' Weevil-capturing activities. The only member of The Cab that has an actual car is Brent, who's got a class today, so Cash and the Alexes are sitting mostly-patiently next to Shane, waiting for Susie's recital to finish so that Shane can take them home. Brendon means to watch Susie, honestly he does, but then Cash smirks at him, and Brendon can't just let that go, because it's totally a challenge, and Brendon Urie doesn't back down from a challenge.

Jon and Spencer fluctuate between loud fights and tense, uneasy truces, and Brendon and Ryan find themselves fleeing the cabin and the mountain more and more often. Somehow, they keep running into The Cab, or Shane, or Brent, or some combination of those.

Somehow, between all the time they spend together, Brendon and Cash's thing starts to look like it could become something more. Brendon's about to say something, about to do something, to point it out—

And then May is ending and Brent's finishing his finals and suddenly they're all packing up and piling back into the hearse and heading out again, swearing to never speak of the cabin again. They're saying their goodbyes, hugging Ryan and Spencer's family, high-fiving Shane, fist-bumping the Alexes. Brendon's standing in front of Cash, trying to find the words, to work out how to say them, when Ryan steps up, grabs Cash's shoulder, and says, "Your band is getting pretty good. You find yourselves an actual guitarist instead of stealing ours, and I'll put in a good word for you with Pete."

Cash's jaw drops and he gapes. "Pete. Pete as in _Pete Wentz_? Dude. _Dude_ , seriously, that'd be, wow, that'd fucking _great_ , oh my god. I. Shane has this cousin, okay, who he says is bitchin' on guitar and who's supposed to come visit soon and is looking for a band and oh my _god_ , Smith. _Pete Wentz?_ You are seriously the best ever," he babbles, oblivious to Ryan going stiff when Cash hugs him enthusiastically. Glancing over Ryan's shoulder, Cash notices Brendon standing there, looking a little stunned. "Oh my fucking god, Bden, can you believe this?" he asks excitedly, and Brendon can't help but smile, because that's _Cash_.

"You've gotten really good," Brendon says encouragingly. "You and the Alexes. If Pete doesn't sign you, he's crazy." He gives Cash a high-five, then trudges off to the car, feeling a little glad for Ryan's intrusion on the moment. If Ryan hadn't come then, Brendon probably would've said something he'd really regret, something about feelings and forevers and things that are really, really stupid to even _think_ in the same sentence as Cash Colligan.

Brent climbs in behind the wheel, Jon sliding in next to him, and the Smiths pile into the back with Brendon, sandwiching him between them, and Brendon relaxes. Takes a deep breath, lets it out. "C'mon," Brendon crows, slinging his arms around Ryan and Spencer and leaning forward, grinning, "let's get this show on the road." Brent laughs and starts the ignition, and they peel out of Vegas, leaving all their worries and woes behind them.


End file.
